“‘Christine,’ he exclaimed, ‘for God’s sake don’t—you must not go—I will tell you——’
“But she had brushed past him, and a moment later her terrible cry told him that she stood over the body of her husband. Excellency, who may write of a moment like that?
“‘Zol,’ she said—ten minutes had been numbered then, and he had given her the story—‘take me away from Vienna; oh, I can bear it no longer! Zol, take me to Zlarin.’
“She said the words, and then lay almost inanimate in his arms, while his lips were glued to hers and his limbs trembled against her own.
“Excellency, this is the story of Christine of the Hills. You have seen the pavilion which Zol has built for her upon the island she has learnt to love. They say that he has married her, and has no thought but for her happiness. For myself, Christine is very good to me. Eccoli, am I not her father? Did I not give her bread when all the world cried upon her? Surely it is right that she should remember me now when she has money beyond her wishes, and is the mistress of houses and of servants.
“And she has forgotten, you ask—ah, who shall tell us that? Who shall read the whole heart of a woman who has loved one man and has given herself to another? Let us remember only that affection is about her path; that she has come back from her dreaming to the island home where the visions were given to her.
“And from the new dream of content, excellency, it is my prayer that she will never wake.”
THE END.